Harsh Words
by JulesDPM
Summary: Bors and Lancelot exchange harsh words.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's notes: Okay, I know I usually only write Thunderbirds stories but King Arthur is a tale of a bunch of strong men fighting the good fight so I guess it's not so different. Thanks to Lynn whose suggestion it was in the first place so, naturally, I made her beta it. Good job she did too and very necessary as this is my first (and possibly only!) King Arthur story._

Harsh Words

"What has led Bors to celebrate so?" asked Arthur. He was in the Fort armoury, cleaning and sharpening Excalibur. It was a labour of love, as it was for all the knights in keeping their weapons in top condition, and he would never consider letting anyone else do the work.

Beside him, Lancelot was relaxing on a bench. He and Arthur had been enjoying a peaceful discussion about the day's happenings but their quiet conversation was being interrupted more and more by noises from the nearby tavern. Bors's voice could be heard above the others, exhorting one and all to drink and drink some more.

"Perhaps," considered Lancelot, "because it is one of his children's birthdays. Or perhaps because it is merely a Tuesday. Who can tell?"

Arthur chuckled this. "You are right that Bors needs little excuse to be merry."

As if he had heard his name, Bors burst in through the door, spilling ale from his tankard over the floor.

"Here you are! Arthur, Lancelot, the time for work is passed. Come and join me! There is a party to enjoy."

"Go away, Bors, we are not interested in a party right now," replied Lancelot dismissively.

"Arthur! Come and drink with me," continued Bors, not in the least put off by Lancelot. "There is time for work and time for play."

Arthur looked up from Excalibur, smiling at his knight's good spirits. "Thank you for the offer, but I do not have the time to join the party now. Perhaps another evening."

Finally Bors's enthusiasm started to flag. "Will you not join me? There is plentiful food and ale."

"I am sure you and the others will do it justice," chuckled Arthur. "So go back to your guests and enjoy yourself."

"You two are… are…." Bors struggled for a suitable insult but none came into his addled brain. "Oh stop flapping yer mouths on serious stuff and come and sing instead."

"The answer is no! Can't you take a hint, Bors?" Lancelot almost shouted.

"I expect this of you Lancelot but you Arthur…?" protested Bors.

"Bors," said Lancelot rising, "you are an oafish ruffian with no manners, learning, discretion or maturity. "Go away before I have to push you out the door."

Lancelot began to look threatening. Arthur sighed. His knights were loyal and provided him with good counsel but sometimes he felt like a parent with a crowd of unruly children.

"Lancelot, Bors! Neither of you is showing your best side. Be still, the both of you. There is no need for insults here."

Bors looked over at Arthur and then back at Lancelot. His deep respect for Arthur stopped him from retaliating. "I would not waste my time on you," he said quietly to Lancelot and left the armoury.

"He is an idiot," muttered Lancelot sitting back down.

"If you think that, you are an idiot yourself. You know better than that," admonished Arthur. He noted the slightly sulky look on Lancelot's face.

"Come, Lancelot, let us take one last walk around the Fort before the night air gets too cold."

With that he put Excalibur back in its scabbard, slapped Lancelot on the back and the two set off on their walk.


	2. Chapter 2

Lancelot enjoyed riding. He enjoyed the freedom of cantering away from the Fort. Today, he was following a path through the forest. Tristran had been around this particular area recently and declared it a Woad-free zone so Lancelot was enjoying the moment. A bird of prey circled above him. He wouldn't put it passed Tristran to have sent his hawk to keep an eye on him. He smiled at the thought. Tristran trusted no one but himself and he was a difficult soul to penetrate.

Unfortunately, Lancelot's musings meant that he was no longer paying attention to the path, unlike his horse, Gwen. A small deer shot out of the trees across Gwen's path. Taken by surprise, the mare reared up. Lancelot was an excellent horseman but he was relaxed and taken by surprise. He was thrown off Gwen in a most undignified manner. He rolled to right himself but luck was against him. Gwen had been startled next to a dried up pond. The base of the pond was now thickly carpeted with leaves and, as Lancelot rolled down the side to the base, he would have been assured of a soft landing if it hadn't been for the rather large rock near the bottom. Lancelot's head came in contact with it and he was knocked unconscious.

As he lay motionless at the bottom of the pit, Gwen considered the situation. She waited for a while, searched for food and finally decided that, as Lancelot was obviously not going to take her back to the stables for lunch, she would have to make a her own way home. She turned and started to trot back towards the Fort.

* * *

Bors's head ached. He walked along the top of the Fort parapet, hoping the breeze would bring some relief. The previous night had been enjoyable but the after-effects suggested that he had perhaps carried things too far. Still, there were no battles to be fought today so he would be easy on himself.

He looked into the distance. The views of the English countryside, which were currently so serene and not scarred with blood, made him smile. He saw a horse trotting up to the Fort. He frowned in puzzlement. The horse was saddled yet riderless. He scanned the horizon for someone but there was no one about. He wondered if the horse had unseated the rider. He sighed. He wished he could ignore it as he had so wanted a quiet day but he was curious.

His curiosity led him out of the Fort and over to the horse. He calmed her and stroked her nose, recognising the mare.

"Gwen? Was Lancelot riding you? Where have you left him?" A big bear of a man, Bors had, in spite of himself, learned to speak soothingly to horses in a similar way to Tristran. He couldn't pretend that he understood them but he appreciated that sometimes you needed to play their game to get the best out of them.

He started to follow Gwen's hoof marks in the soft mud back the way she had come. Gwen turned and followed Bors who caught hold of her bridle, hoping she would provide some clues. After a half an hour's walk Gwen recognised the area where Lancelot had so suddenly dismounted. She stopped and harrumphed a couple of times. Bors took the hint and looked around. He saw the still form at the bottom of the dip and let out a curse. He let go of Gwen and hurried down. He sank to his knees by the body and pulled it over towards him.

"Lancelot! Bloody hell, what have you done to yourself?"

Lancelot moaned in reply and tried to put a hand to his aching head but failed miserably.

"You big twat," scolded Bors. His actions, however, were a good deal gentler than his words. He checked Lancelot over, making sure that nothing was broken and there were no wounds on his body. He quickly established that the only damage was to Lancelot's head. The wound on his head had bled but clotted quickly and had damp leaves stuck to it which Bors decided it was prudent not to remove at that time.

He glanced up to the track. Gwen was waiting patiently.

"Okay, Lancelot, let's get you to a healer. This might hurt but you can't stay here all day."

Bors was strong and well-built. He put all his efforts into lifting Lancelot into his arms as carefully as possible so as not to distress him further.

"We'll soon have you home," he said, more to himself then Lancelot who was drifting in and out of consciousness. He struggled up the slope and up to Gwen.

"Hold still, you silly nag," he said teasingly but gently. He tenderly placed Lancelot over Gwen's saddled and secured him. Then he started to lead the horse back to the Fort, slowly so as not to jolt Lancelot.

Back at the Fort Bors took Lancelot straight to a healer. The healer tended to the wound and mixed some herbs as a poultice and others as a drink for when Lancelot was able to take it.

Bors sat beside Lancelot for some time in the healer's recovery room, willing his speedy recovery. The healer assured him that he could go but he didn't wish to leave Lancelot alone. After a while there was commotion and Arthur entered the room. Bors was shaken from his thoughts. When he saw Arthur his demeanour changed. He stood up abruptly.

"Stupid fool couldn't keep his arse in the saddle."

"Will he be okay?" asked Arthur, full of concern.

"He's coming round now. His pretty head's taken worst knocks than that. I have to go."

Bors strode out and Arthur took his place.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur stayed for the rest of the afternoon and evening as Lancelot slowly recovered his senses. Lancelot was surprised to hear from the healer that it was Bors who had searched for and rescued him.

The next day Arthur, after talking to Bors, confirmed the events to Lancelot who then was ashamed of the way he had referred to Bors two nights previously. He had fought alongside Bors in many battles and found him to be trustworthy, loyal and reliable.

By that evening, Lancelot felt well enough to be back on his feet. His first job was to track down Bors whom, unsurprisingly, he found in the tavern, sitting at a table, surrounded by his cronies. Lancelot bought a jug of ale and placed it in front of Bors. Bors looked up at him.

"I believe that I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Not really," replied Bors, eyeing the jug, "Any man would have done what I did."

"Not any man," replied Lancelot. "There is no man quite like you, Bors. You don't deserve harsh words from me. I have no right to judge you."

Bors was plainly uncomfortable by this humble display from Lancelot. He shifted in his seat and glanced again at the jug before him.

"The let's say no more but share a beer," he suggested hopefully.

Lancelot's face broke into a smile. "That is the best medicine I have been offered yet. Just remind me in the future, Bors, that when I need a sore head I should get it by drinking ale with you rather than by hitting a rock."

Finally Bors relaxed and also smiled. The smile turned into one of his guffaws that filled the room and made all his companions, including Lancelot, laugh too.

The End


End file.
